"I'm pleased to greet the first years to Hogwarts this year." Dumbledore called out over the hall. "It's always a pleasure to see so many new faces. I don't see our other new student just yet, but I'm sure she will be arriving soon. In any case, let us start the sorting. Professor McGonagall?" She led the line of cowering first years to the front of the room, and settled the sorting hat on it's stool. It sang it's song, making a fair number of student's wince. It sounded rather drunken. It began to sort the first years, splitting them almost evenly between Hufflepuff, and Ravenclaw. It wasn't untl Zedrich Zeinwich, that Gryffindor received a new student, and Slytherin recieved Zander Zeondre last of all. Dumbledore looked around, a touch of disappointment showing on his face. "I was sure that..." He was cut off, as a blue-green dot in the air formed over his plate. A moment later the new student was spewed forth, smashing into the table before him.
She was, by most standards, breathtaking. Clad in a blue and white striped tank top, that clung to her form like a second skin, she seemed to vibrate with every breath. Blue jeans covered her from the waist down, ending at her ankles, just over the tops of her sneakers, a dark green color. Every male eye, and a few of the female ones watched with great interest, as she drew a breath, that seemed to stretch the top to nearly the breaking point, then she spoke. It was a single, low word. "Ouch." She drew it out over the length of the breath, and as softly as it was said, it echoed off the walls of the room. Then she spoke again. In blistering tones, she began to swear at the air over her head, going for a full minute, without repeating herself, using words that would make a sailor blush. At the end of it, she said something, that not one person, student or teacher would forget for the rest of the year. "And just where in hell is my luggage?" The blue-green dot flared to life again, and issued a single black briefcase. She caught it with both hands, and the table groaned. She climbed off, setting the case on the ground, then she bowed to Dumbledore, once again attracting those eyes. "I give you my sincerest apologies for my words Professor, it was unthinking of me."
"No need, are you alright?" He asked. She nodded.
"Quite, I suppose I should be used to it." She winced. "Sorry about the table." She commented, as it creaked, and collapsed in a clatter of dishes, and chairs, as the teachers leapt back.
"Quite alright." He replied. A few words lifted the table up and restored it to it's pristine condition. "Now, might we have your name?"
"Of course. Monice Treborne." She bowed again.
"You don't..." He trailed off. "There's no need for that." He commented.
"Habit I suppose." She shrugged.
"Ahem, professor." McGonagall coughed delicately.
"Oh, yes, right you are Minerva. Miss Treborne, please, sit down, and place the hat on your head if you will." Monica sat, and settled the hat down. After a moment, the hat spoke, though not what was expected.
"This one is more stubborn than the Potter boy." It said, and returned to it's deliberation. Harry flushed crimson. There was a grunt from Monica and the hat spoke again. "I'm going to put you in Gryfinndor. For the simple reason, that Raven claw is over full already." Monica swore at the hat. It ignored her. "GRYFINNDOR!" It proclaimed. She stood, and removed the hat, dropping it on the stool, and recovering her case. "And be sure she doesn't cause trouble Potter." The hat yelled, as McGonagall carted it away. A space opened up beside Hermoine, though she tried to hide it.
"Now, for this years announcements. As always, the forbidden forest is off-limits to all students, on pain of a horrible, agonizing death. Mr. Filch askes me to remind you not to kick at Mrs. Norris, and you know who you are. Also with reports of attacks on the rise, visits to Hogsmeade this year are restricted to groups of no less than three. Remember, magic in the halls is prohibited. I also wish to welcome our new defense against the dark arts teacher, Professor Sechell." The man in sand colored robes rose to his feet, bowed, and then sat again. "Now, let us welcome our new students, and let the feast, BEGIN!" He dropped into his chair with the last word. Harry, Ron, and Hermoine dug in immeadiately, filling plates and beginning to chew, and continue the discussions from the train. Monica on the other hand, simply, folded her hands in her lap,and closed her eyes. Ron was the first to speak to her.
"So, where are you from?" He asked. She spoke without opening her eyes.
"The states, the armpit of the world." Dean Thomas, sitting beside her, snorted with laughter, choking on his food. She slapped him on the back, a crashing blow, still without looking.
"Thanks." He managed after a swig of his drink.
"Your welcome." She replied, still not opening her eyes.
"How did you get here? That wasn't apparation, since you can't do it on and off the grounds, and it's not a portkey, since that would have come with you." Hermoine commented.
"My teacher thinks he's funny." She replied. "It's a bit complicated to explain. Take it on faith, that it wasn't my choice of methods."
"What did you say your name was?" Harry asked.
"Monica." She answered, opening her eyes now. Deep and blue, he found himself lost inside them. There was nothing of her within them, but only a reflection of his own emotions, worries and fear. He tore himself away, and when he looked back she had closed them again. After the feast was over she opened them again, but now they were green, and held nothing of the pair that had been there earlier. She strode away when Professor McGonagall called to her, still carrying the briefcase, a placid expression on her face. Harry watched her go warily.
"I don't like her." Hermoine commented.
"You never do." Ron returned.
"Don't worry about her, I don't think she's dangerous, despite Malfoy's warnings." Harry commented, as they walked to Gryfinndor tower. The password was Cheese Sandwich.
"Why do you say that?" Hermoine asked.
"Something about her eyes." He answered.
